


You are my salvation

by Sindefara



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14447757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sindefara/pseuds/Sindefara
Summary: Maedhros was unaware of Fingon's dark secret. Now he must save and heal his beloved.





	You are my salvation

"I do not understand this!" Maedhros heard Fingon's retainer's words, standing behind a huge branched hazel tree.  
While Fingon was visiting him, he never heard the voice of this dark-haired Laiquendi elf - he only bowed and smiled – but (as Maedhros always believed), the elf's voice was indeed unpleasant, sugarcoated and peevish.  
"I feel very, very stupid," continued the courtier. "Suppose he catches up with us in two days. Why did he even need to take us with him? We again do not know where he went, he did not say a word to me, just left - and this was an hour before the night halt. There is no one here, only a couple of Mannish villages. Even if we admit...”  
His friend, another companion of Fingon’s, began to speak, starting with:  
"But he was not even drunk yesterday..." but his voice sounded quieter, not as piercing as the first one’s, and Maedhros did not hear - or did not want to listen to him.  
Maedhros could not resist the temptation to say goodbye to Fingon again after his cousin departed from Himring - but now he was surprised and alarmed to discover that Fingon was not there, and that his companions did not know where he had gone.  
Maedhros reasoned: if the courtier said «catch up», then Fingon should not be looked for ahead on the road: he must come back, and look for him where his squad was last night an hour before the halt. Even if Fingon did not say anything to this slippery character, but told someone else where he was going, this other one would hardly reveal his master’s secret.

Maedhros had no difficulty in finding where Fingon and his retainers had parted. At this place he arrived already in the evening; the lazy autumn sun was ensnared in the branches of birches, and even autumn itself seemed to be ensnared, entangled, stopped in this forest, hiding in a pool of a summer heat. Sometimes cold gusts of wind touched the strands of Maedhros’s copper-red hair, but, closing his eyes, he could even imagine that it was a cold, rainy June.  
Maedhros did not know if he was lucky, or he just learned to choose the paths that his cousin would like. At places he was able to distinguish the tracks of Fingon’s horse even after the drenching rain in the morning. Eventually he saw the horse under a big oak tree. The horse was dead: probably a bear killed the unfortunate animal. The skull was gnawed, the silver bridle torn, the legs were scattered like sticks in a fallen fence. A small fox with a piece of meat in his mouth popped out from behind the shoulders of the horse, somehow guiltily looked at Maedhros and disappeared under the bushes.  
Maedhros did not even have time to be scared. In his mind there was a dizziness, some vague insanity, everything was going dark before his eyes. He went on, as if he knew where to go. It seemed to him that he was walking for a very long time - but it must have been not so long, the sun was not yet down. He stopped noiselessly and saw a clearing in the forest, lit by the pink setting sun. The screams of the dying animal should be heard in this place, he thought. 

Everything that he saw was engraved forever in his brain, but at the same time he could not reveal anything, he could not tell anyone, his mouth was sealed with the horror and impossibility of what was happening.  
Fingon could not lie here, in the autumn forest, completely naked, defenseless; he could not give himself to two Edain - a boy of twenty and an older man; Maedhros could not force himself to look at their faces.  
Fingon could not have answered, "yes, I want" on "maybe you do not want to".  
He could not bend obediently, so that it would be more convenient for them.  
He did not need help, he did not get into trouble, he did it willingly.  
Maedhros would have killed them if he had not been afraid to hurt Fingon himself. A practical voice in his head (Maedhros thought he belonged to his father, Fëanor) said that if the Men were murdered here, it was very likely that all this would leak out - someone may start looking for these people, trying to find out who and why killed them...  
He heard Fingon's high-pitched, unnatural laugh; he said something like "well, that's it".  
"Maybe it's better to kill him," the older man muttered.  
They went back into the forest and passed by very close to the place where Maedhros was hiding. Against the setting sun, he could not see their expressions.  
"Do not," answered the younger one. "Maybe he has friends here. This Elf is weird. Let’s go quickly from here. You should not have taken his clothes”.  
"Well, at least this, since you said we should not take his rings..."

The darkness has not yet fully engulfed the forest. Maedhros came closer; the sun had set, the clearing almost drowned in the night, but Fingon's eyes shone bright. Remembering the words of the courtier (“was not drunk”), Maedhros realized that now Fingon was completely drunk: next to him was a green flask filled with a strong brew that the elven servants from the Himring kitchen presented to the guest. Fingon smelled not only of this, but also of some disgusting stuff like beer or ale that these people brought with them.  
Fingon rose on his elbow: in his hair and on his white skin there were dirty stains and wet yellow twigs and leaves, his legs were parted; under him there was some kind of rag on the ground. He looked at Maedhros with dull eyes and, finally said:  
"You want me, too? Come on, come on, I'll let you”.  
Maedhros could not say anything; he bended down, trying to help him, he wanted to take off his cloak to cover Fingon - but Fingon grabbed him by the strings of his cloak and said again, more persistently:  
“Come on, come on, you can; don’t you want it too?”.  
Fingon dragged Maedhros down with his unexpectedly weak, trembling, scratched hands.  
Maedhros thought that Fingon must not be allowed to beg further. He sank to his knees, lay down, covering Fingon’s small body with his own, clutched him; at least, so he could take him, hold him, and not to be afraid that he will disappear into the darkness around.  
"Do you really need me to do this?" Maedhros asked.  
"Yes," said Fingon once more, indistinctly, and fainted in Maedhros's hands, sliding into a drunken oblivion.  
There was no clothes on him; there were no shoes. Maedhros found trousers next to him, but they were not his – apparently, they belonged to one of those people. Of course, Maedhros himself did hot have spare clothes with him – he did not take them for the short trip. However, Maedhros could not let Fingon stay naked and put on him someone else’s clothes, then wrapped Fingon in his own warm cloak.

***

They returned to Himring before dark; Maedhros was afraid that he would ride his horse to death, so much he wanted to get back soon. He entered the castle by the secret back passage; to the couple of frightened servants who met him, Maedhros said that Fingon had badly fallen from a horse on a hunt and hit his head against a tree, and that he himself would take care of his cousin.  
He threw the trousers into a fireplace. On the belt he noticed a modest embroidery - a garland of small naive flowers. Maedhros felt for a moment a sympathy for the woman who made the thing (he knew that, unlike Elves, Edain males were at sewing but rarely) - not knowing that her husband or brother are in for mean pursuits of this kind.  
He was glad that when he washed away the dirt from Fingon's hair, his skin, his thighs, from everywhere, he was unconscious.  
Maedhros remembered how he visited Fingon in Hithlum about two years ago. Everything seemed to be as usual; then he left and met Uncle Fingolfin on the way: Uncle unexpectedly decided to call on his son. Fingolfin invited Maedhros to go with him, saying that Fingon would not mind. When they arrived, Fingon was not at home. He appeared in the morning, he also had mud on his hair and clothes, and he smelled of wine. He said that he was on the hunt. All this seemed very natural: Fingon must have been sitting somewhere in an ambush, in a swamp, in the mud, perhaps got a flask of wine with him - but Maedhros remembered his eyes: now this memory hurt him unbearably, because now he knew what actually had happened the night before.  
That day, Fingolfin looked at him intently and inquiringly. Now Maedhros knew that this look meant, "do you at least know what's going on?"  
No, he did not.

***

Maedhros was with Fingon all day, sometimes falling into a restless sleep; Fingon awoke only in the evening. He looked at Maedhros with glassy eyes and asked:  
“Are you here?”  
"Yes," Maedhros said. “You are in my house. You are unwell. You have to relax. I told everyone that you fell from the horse and were badly hurt”.  
"What are you now - what are you ..." Fingon did not finish.  
He crouched, trying to get up, and vomited on the floor. Maedhros held him by his shoulders so he would not fall, and then helped him, his body helplessly flaccid, to lie down again and made him drink some water. Fingon coughed, tried to say something, and started vomiting yet again.  
Leaning back on a high pillow, Fingon looked at Maitimo, seemingly unable to comprehend that he was at his cousin's house, in Himring. Fingon stroked his thick black tress, still damp, which Maitimo carefully plaited a few hours before with trembling hand.  
He moaned.  
«Is there anything else you want?” Maedhros interrupted him quickly. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”  
“Yes," said Fingon. “A drink. Please”.  
Maedhros took a flask of wine from the locker. He himself did not drink, but just in case he kept it here.  
"Eat first." He handed some cookies to the cousin. "Just a little bit. And now drink”.  
"Maybe we should eat," said Fingon, and after drinking off the flask, was asleep again.

Maedhros was terribly afraid to leave him alone and slept in an armchair next to him.

He long had to realize that Fingon was drinking too much; yes, here in Beleriand, everyone drank more. Here, unlike Aman, there were no ceremonies, there were no solemn calendar holidays, when the wine was acceptable - perhaps, it was only the custom in Gondolin. They all began to drink on ordinary days and kept the wine at home all the time. Now Maedhros wondered - when was the last time Fingon had no wine on his table? When did he not ask to pour him a second, third, fourth glass?

***

They woke up the next morning; the sun was shining brightly. Maedhros came to the window. It turned out that during this terrible day and dark night, too warm an autumn was replaced by winter; a thin veil of snow was everywhere, and the moisture on the branches froze into sparkling greenish armor.

Fingon opened his eyes, looked around, and rose. Previously, he was not in Maedhros’s private bedroom - his own, small bedroom in the tower. He looked at Maedhros standing at the window. He looked at the disparate, small things, Maitimo’s personal little world, which he had never thought of before: an attempt to create a semblance of coziness - a silvered twig of mountain pine with cones from the forests on Ered Luin, a pebble from the banks of Gelion, a bronze mirror, an old bone comb.  
The walls were painted with a mural representing the surrounding winter landscape - a light blue and green sky, silhouettes of trees lined with mother of pearl and sparkling diamonds on the branches. Fingon's lips twisted into a smile.  
"Does it not seem strange to you that the walls are the same as the view from your window?"  
"I like it here," Maedhros answered. “I like the winter. I probably have not told anyone about this yet, nobody likes it”.  
"Your father would have liked this room," said Fingon.  
He turned away, looking to nowhere.  
"I'd better leave," he said.  
"No," Maedhros said. "No. Not now".  
"Do you forbid me?" shouted Fingon.  
Maedhros never thought that Fingon's voice could displease him, but this voice - half-drunk and hysterical - was indeed unpleasant.  
"Finno," he said softly, "I can not let you risk yourself. Anything, but not this. You could be killed, kidnapped, betrayed... betrayed to the enemy”, he managed to say with difficulty. “One cannot do it this way. I have to take care of your safety. Your father will die of grief if something happens to you, I know it. He cherishes you more than his own life”.  
"Will you lock me up? Will you tell Dad?” Fingon's voice broke; Maedhros realized that he was afraid of this more than anything.  
"Finno, I cannot do this, but let me at least take care of your safety. I could become your bodyguard, if you want. Next time, when you need _it_ , let me accompany you. I'll make sure that all your needs are met – you’ll get everything you want, but without putting your life at stake. Finno, please do not drink so much. Especially when you are alone with people you do not know at all”.  
Fingon laughed.  
“So it's all about wine, huh? Why you...”  
"Finno," Maedhros said. "If you need _this_ , I'll bring them to you myself. Those whom you want. Whenever you want. I'll bring anyone you want here, or to your house, as you wish. As much as you want. I'll choose them for you. If it's better for you - so be it. Just tell me”.  
“Will you choose them?” - Fingon echoed.  
“I'll choose. I'll choose the handsomest or those whom you point out”.  
"No, the worse, the better".  
Maedhros expected something like that.  
“Well. You can stay here, with me, as long as you want. You can, after all, have it all here... listen, it's better here than in cold forest, in the mud. No one will know about it. No one will dare to harm you or steal something. Nobody will remind you about it later – nobody ever”.  
Fingon's eyes flashed with fear. He realized what Maedhros intended to say. He did not ask: "Will you kill them?" - it was obvious.  
"What if I want to repeat it?" - he asked.  
"I can leave here, at my house, those whom you may like," Maitimo said calmly. “As many as you want. Of course, it depends on how long they will live. The Men grow old quickly, unfortunately. Then I'll find others”.  
Fingon had never thought that Maitimo could sentence an innocent person to life imprisonment and the death for the sake of his friend’s entertainment.  
Now he knew it.  
"All this for my sake?" - He wanted this phrase to sound jokingly, but did not manage it.  
"Yes," answered Maedhros. "If you need it."  
He was silent, unable to look at Fingon: it was not as easy to say all this aloud.  
“Are you hungry now?” he finally asked again. "I'll cook you something."  
…  
"Delicious," Fingon whispered, without lifting his eyes.  
"Take some rest," Maedhros said gently. “Sleep. Just do not drink any more, please. At least today. It only makes you sick”.  
“As you wish”.  
Noticing that Fingon was quivering, Maitimo covered him with a large woolen blanket.  
"What else can I do for you?" - he asked. "I will do whatever you want."  
"Are you indeed ready to bring them here?" Fingon whispered. “Are you?”  
“Of course. I told you - everything you want. If you”... He swallowed, and then he finally uttered it. "If it's not enough, I could - you said you wanted me to... If I could satisfy you even for a while, then I'm ready to serve you”.  
“You could, could you? I thought it was a dream - I could not tell you that", Fingon said in a playful tone, but his voice sounded muffled.  
"Yes," answered Maedhros. “Yes. I can, of course. I did not refuse, no. It's just that you were asleep and I could not do it there”.  
“Let's do it here, than”.  
“Should I undress?”  
Maedhros knelt beside the bed.  
“Do as you want”.  
“Just say how and what you want, I'll do it."  
Fingon looked at him, his mind blanked out: he still could not believe that there, in the forest, he really offered himself to Maitimo, in those words.  
He sighed - and felt a naked body next to him; Maedhros was undressed. Only now he fully realized that Maitimo had washed him and dressed him in a new and clean gown that night; he remembered how Maerdhros rubbed him with a towel and how he changed his clothes again after a fit of drunken vomiting.

Maitimo, too, could not believe that Fingon really offered himself to him that time - and even more so now; it was hard to believe that this would happen. He knew that all his hopes for happiness never even existed, and were finally done with long ago - but now his dreams were ruined again in the most cruel way.  
His lot was one of endless humiliation - self-abasement of a servant who serves food on the table, but can never try it, hoping that perhaps once a year he will get some leftovers.  
No, he must not think so; his mind should not be at this at all.  
Only his body was needed. It will give Finno what he wants from someone else's body, it will warm him, satisfy him and shield Fingon’s trembling, suffering frame. It was the only way.

***

Fingon stretched out lazily, pressed himself against him, sighed; now he felt nothing but a pleasant warmness on his skin, felt his lover’s body: Maitimo was so big, so hot - it seems, only now he first felt how much bigger and heavier he was; yes, as if there was nothing around except him.  
“How are you?” whispered Maitimo.  
“I'm very, very well”.  
“Are you happy?”  
“Yes. I am happy. I had no idea it would be so good with you. I never thought you were so kind”.

Fingon awoke in his arms; a bright winter morning dawned again outside; Fingon saw the azure sky painted on the wall, a diamond frost on the painted trees and crystal snowflakes on a high dome above them, lightly illuminated by rays from tiny windows under the roof.  
He never woke up in anyone's arms before and did not feel the heat from strangers’ bodies - they always seemed to him dead and cold.

"Good morning," said Maitimo.  
Fingon was happy to see Maitimo’s blushing when he realized that he was undressed and that they were together this night.  
"Do you want something?" Maedhros asked.  
"Now – no ... I do not know. Later”.  
"Let me make you breakfast, and then can we entertain ourselves?" His gaze pointed to the game board on the dresser.  
"As you wish" Fingon agreed, although, honestly, he could not stand board games.  
The day passed by so quietly, happily and harmlessly, that for Fingon it was as if it was his first visit here. It was a feeling as if they had met for the first time since the day when his father, Fingolfin, announced that Maedhros's father no longer wanted to see anyone of their family in his house. That morning they were playing some sort of board game, too. Fingon remembered crystal pawns in the form of birds and butterflies shining in the soft golden light of Valinor - and for some reason he felt disgusted at the memory of how naive they both were, although he probably should have felt the opposite.

"I'll sleep on the couch in the sitting room," said Maitimo. "If you need anything, call me, please. Moreover, if you need... well, tell me, I'll try to make you happy”.  
All this time he looked away, then looked at Fingon - and again he blushed when he saw his stare.  
“Like yesterday?” he said involuntarily, he did not want to say this, but this look was impossible to understand otherwise. “Yes. Yes. Just say, if you want me to bring...”  
"I do not need others," said Fingon in a harsh, odd voice. "You are quite good for me. You can even…”  
He fell silent for a long time, fingering the laces on the collar of his night shirt.  
"Tell me."  
"Maitimo, if you like, you can behave badly. You can humiliate me, insult me – hurt me. I will not complain. Just do whatever you want. Say whatever you like, any nasty, unpleasant things, I know - I guess what you think - what you must think about me... just say it all aloud”.  
“Is it necessary? I probably will not be able... but if I really can not please you without it... I tried to please you yesterday - just...”  
Fingon felt a burning shame - because of the embarrassment that sounded in Maitimo’s voice.  
“No, no! Everything yesterday was fine. Just say and do whatever you want. Do not hold back. I will forget everything and never remind you. I will not refuse to be with you because of this another day. I want it this way”.  
“Good”.  
Fingon closed his eyes tight, feeling him close again, then he felt the light go out, but he did not open his eyes; he quivered, preparing himself for the worst punishment, which he had been waiting for – waiting for years.  
"I love you," Maitimo breathed almost silently. "Oh, how much I love you. I love you, did you know?”  
Fingon felt the pain from his kisses, which were too intent, too desperate, pain from his fingers grasping his shoulder; he could not breathe in his arms; and when he screamed with pleasure, Maitimo closed his mouth with a kiss - and Fingon wept, hugging him.  
“I love you. I love you. I do not think about anyone else but you – please believe me, Finno”.  
"I love you, too," said Fingon.

***

Maitimo woke up, hearing a groan – a long, pitiful moaning. It sounded as if it came from an animal.

It sounded as if the soul next to him, the very inside of his Finno was screaming and calling for help; he got up -  
_“Please... please... spare me... just don’t kill me... I will do everything - I will do everything - anything you want - let me live - I love him - love him - love him - let me find him - let me go - I love him - I'll do anything you want - I'll do... I'll do... I'll do everything... I...”_

Maedhros remembered how Fingon's younger brother Turgon looked down at Fingon skeptically; Turgon, listening to the story of Maedhros's rescue from the hands of the enemy - how Fingon came for him and released him from the terrible captivity, said:  
"And how could it happen that you were so lucky that no one noticed and stopped you on the way?"  
No, Fingon was _not_ lucky.  
In fact, he was out of luck.

Maitimo was alone in the darkness, frozen and immobilised by the pain of his beloved, the pain to which he could not find a name; but this moment passed, it had to pass; he promised him care.  
Care and protection.  
"Wake up, please," he said. "Wake up, Finno."  
Fingon loudly whined and woke up.  
“What?” He cried out. “What it was?..”  
"Forgive me," said Maitimo. "You moaned in your sleep. You just had a nightmare. I'm here. Do not be afraid. It's only a dream”.  
"I'm sorry," Fingon said huskily.  
"It doesn’t matter", Maedhros answered. "Try to sleep again. If you have nightmares, I'll wake you up. I'm here – you have me”.  
"All right," said Fingon. “I am so sorry”.  
He still breathed heavily for several minutes, as if after running, and then was asleep again.

If Maedhros were less noble and generous, he would have thought:  
"He had to endure this only for a few hours – possibly for a day - and he could not bear it; and I, who endured torments without hope for many years, including _this_ , did not go mad. I do not drink excessively; I do not try to kill myself, offering my body to random people, again and again repeating the worst of what I had to go through..."

But his heart was full only of infinite pity and love.

**Author's Note:**

> This was published in Russian as https://ficbook.net/readfic/6289225 ("Ты - моё спасение").


End file.
